Chapter Twelve: The Son Left Behind
*One Day Before The President Was Shot*
Jackson threw another shirt into the suitcase, not caring how wrinkled it became. He was packing fast, angrily, shoving things in as though the harder he packed, the less it would hurt.
This apartment felt weird for being so silent. His father was looking at him while standing by the door.
He had red eyes from another sleepless night, the kind of man who had aged ten years in one week.
"This is the best I can do, son," his father finally spoke quietly, and it sounded rough from holding back too much.
Jackson clenched his fists, and tightened his jaw so hard-it was going to break. "The best you can do is send me away?"
His father took a step closer, sighing and making this pained expression on his face. "They'll be watching us, Jack. If you stay, you'll go down with us. This way, you still have a chance."
Jackson zipped the bag roughly, his throat started to burn. "A chance to do what? Pretend I don't have a family? That my parents aren't being dragged to prison for something they didn't do?"
His mother was sitting at the edge of the couch, her wrists were trembling as she twisted the corner of her shawl. She had this sad, hollow face, drained of everything she used to be.
"We don't want you to see us like this," she whispered, and it felt like she was already broken.
"I don't care what I see!" Jackson shouted suddenly. "I just want to fix it!"
His father's voice hardened. "You can't fix this, Jackson. Not this time."
Jackson turned away, gripping the handle of his bag. "You're wrong."
"Jackson…"
He spun around, trying to hide his burning eyes. "I know who did this."
Both parents looked at each other, but said nothing. Letting Jackson say it out loud was the only option they had. Maybe; this way…he would feel better?
"What are you talking about?" his father asked slowly.
Jackson's voice was so hushed, at some point it felt like a growl. "You really think random officers would plant evidence in your office? Fake drug records? Forge bank transfers? No." He stepped closer. "It was him. The President."
His father's expression didn't change. "Jackson-"
"Don't say it's impossible!" he snapped. "Don't. You know what he did to me. You know."
His mother looked up, tears gathered in her eyes. "You don't know that for sure, son. You're only guessing."
Jackson laughed bitterly. "Guessing? You think it's a coincidence that after his daughter's photos were leaked, suddenly our family is being erased? You think it's random that our accounts were frozen two days later? Please."
His father looked away, but said nothing. "You should be careful what you say, Jackson."
"I'm not afraid of him," Jackson replied coldly. "He can take my home, he can take your jobs, but he won't get away with it."
His mother stood up and went to him, cupping his face with shaking hands. "Don't do anything foolish. Promise me."
He didn't answer.
"Promise me, Jackson."
He looked into her tear-filled eyes for a long time, then sighed quietly. "I'll keep my head down," he said.
She knew it was a lie, but she nodded anyway.
His father picked up the suitcase and handed it to him. "The train leaves in an hour. You'll stay with your uncle until things calm down. He'll take care of you."
"Uncle Derek?" Jackson asked. "He doesn't even like me."
"Then make him like you," his father replied dryly, trying to keep his tone stable enough from breaking again.
Jackson stared at the door, then back at his parents. "And what happens to you?"
"We'll fight it…We always do."
But even he didn't sound convinced.
Jackson stepped forward and hugged his mother tightly. "I'll come back for you," he murmured into her shoulder.
Her breath hitched. "Don't make promises you can't keep."
"I will. I'll come back, and I'll make sure whoever did this pays."
When he pulled away, his father was already waiting by the door, gripping the knob. "It's time."
Jackson slung the bag over his shoulder, his face hardened and looked weakened by the pressed facial muscles.
As he walked out into the cold morning, the street looked more empty than usual. A few neighbors watched from their windows, probably gossiping about him.
The police cars were still parked near the building, engines off, but loud enough to make his skin crawl.
His father's voice eventually cracked through his thoughts. "Keep your head down, Jackson."
He didn't look back. "Yeah," he muttered, "sure."
He walked faster. The station wasn't far, but every step felt like walking away from everything he'd known.
When the train arrived, Jackson climbed aboard without a word. He sat by the window and watched as the city blurred by, the buildings shrinking until all he could see was the grey line of smoke trailing behind.
But his reflection in the glass didn't look defeated. It looked like it was ready to do something.
He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the headlines that had ruined their lives:
"Businessman and Wife Arrested for Drug Smuggling and Bribery."
"Government Denies Connection to President Geiger."
Jackson smirked bitterly. "Lies," he whispered. "All of it."
His hand tightened around the phone. He opened a hidden folder of screenshots, messages, photos, everything he'd collected before his accounts were deleted.
He had evidence. Not enough to prove everything yet, but enough to start.
"You will pay for this, President Geiger."